


Home is where the hurt is

by Whumblr



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Beating, Emotional Hurt, Torture, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:41:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26775286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whumblr/pseuds/Whumblr
Summary: After a run-in with a local crime gang some years back, Jay is trying to lead a happy life working as a reporter.That changes when Zayne, two years after holding Jay captive, shows up on his doorstep again with a threatening message. While Jay fears a repeat of last time, Zayne has different plans.Jay is 'allowed' to live his life and go to work, but what is his life now? Lying to his friends saying everything is fine, hiding bruises and living with the secret. He has to thread carefully and when the clock hits 5pm and everyone’s happy to go home, Jay is an anxious mess mainly worried about what’s waiting for him at home that evening.





	1. Intruder

Jay dashed up the stairs to his apartment. Just needed to change quickly and then go to the office immediately. He’d been out of the office running about all day and if he hurried he could still make it for the start of the meeting.

He fumbled with his keys and threw the door open. Inside though, a nasty surprise was waiting for him and his hopes of making it on time, let alone making it in one piece, were dashed. Someone was already in his house and had made himself comfortable waiting for Jay, in Jay’s favourite lounge chair no less.

“Please, not now,” Jay begged the man sitting in the semi-dark. He wasn’t surprised in the slightest to find him in his apartment again, but this was a most unwelcome time. He’d expected him later this evening. “I’m already running late. I really have to go or they’ll find out something is wrong!”

The man didn’t seem impressed, nor willing to help out in any way. He didn’t even move and just kept staring.

“Well then,” he merely said, the now familiar hint of an accent in his voice, “You’d better start thinking of a good excuse.”

For a second Jay considered running back out, but decided against it. He would severely regret it later if he did so. Hell, it wouldn’t surprise him if Zayne would follow him to the office and started making a scene. So, no, out of the question.

“Where do you need to go, anyway?” Zayne asked, still not making a move to get up. “I’d think your work hours have ended for today?”

“Staff meeting,” Jay whispered. “I need to pitch my story.”

“Interesting.” Zayne bared his teeth in a wicked smile. “It would be a shame if you weren’t able to… stand up straight.” His hand disappeared behind him and he pulled a belt out from between the cushions in the chair.

A familiar heavy feeling settled in Jay’s stomach as he followed Zayne’s every movement. It was his own belt, he recognized the patterned texture, but he couldn’t even feel indignant about the fact that Zayne was now going through his things as well. All he felt was fear. Fear of the pain about to be inflicted, the pain that would radiate through him for the rest of the evening and would have to be hidden, bitten back, suppressed with a smile. Fear that he’d show up late again, limping into the room with a flimsy excuse and a bruised body. Fear that his friends would find out what’s really been happening to him for the past few weeks. He’d started running out of excuses and Zayne leering at him like that didn’t exactly jumpstart his brain to start producing good ideas.

His friends and colleagues had already noticed some bruises, how he sometimes struggled to stay upright. His best friend had been keeping a close eye on him lately and Jay didn’t want to tell him. Couldn’t tell him, for his own sake.

“Please,” he begged again. Bartering might help. “I’ll come back right after we’re finished! We won’t take all evening. I don’t care what you do then, just—“

“You can keep begging and waste more time, or you can take off your shirt, get on your knees and just get this over with.”

Jay closed his eyes in resignation and took a deep breath. Then he shrugged off his jacked and started unbuttoning his shirt. The man in the chair, his chair, kept watching, his hungry eyes dropping further down with every button undone. Jay threw his shirt and undershirt over the couch, turned his back to the figure and knelt down. The leather of the chair behind him creaked as Zayne got up.

Of course, his took his sweet time. Snapping the belt to draw a wince out of Jay, building the tension. He let out a soft disapproving hum, not yet satisfied with the display in front of him. He looped the belt and let it fall around Jay’s neck.

Jay gasped in surprise as the leather unexpectedly tightened around his throat.

“Sit up straight, Jay. I would think I taught you better,” Zayne scolded and pulled the belt up slowly. Jay followed obediently until he sat high up on his knees.

“Better,” Zayne purred.

He took a step back, pulled the belt back as well and let the first lash strike down with all his strength. Jay gasped hard as the leather struck his skin. He almost fell forward, but he corrected himself quickly and remained sitting high up.

“That’s it.” Zayne struck again. “Taking it like a champ.”

Jay grit his teeth and didn’t answer, focusing on the pain and trying to stay upright.

“Oh, and by the way…” CRACK. “Even if you’re in a hurry, you’d better choose your words more carefully.”

CRACK.

“Tempting me by saying ‘I don’t care what you do’ is quite bold.”

 _Shit!_ The last thing Jay needed now was another visit when he’d return home later this evening. “You know I just meant do whatever you planned on doing no-OW!” Another strike on his back cut off his words, the sound drawn out in a scream.

“Do I?” Zayne mused. “We’ll see when you come back I suppose.”

He kept quiet for a bit after that, just listening to the sounds of leather cracking against skin and the pained gasps and yelps they caused.

Jay used the quiet to steam in his own panic. What would happen if Zayne decided to come back with whatever gruesome idea he had next and pull and all-nighter and he’d just keep going and Jay would need a solid excuse at work the next morning and—His thoughts were interrupted by a vicious strike and he screamed out loud.

“Focus on the here and now, dear.” Zayne paused for a second, giving Jay the impression that it was over, but instead he looped the belt, stepped closer and continued his barrage.

“Now, I think that should do it,” Zayne said after a final painful lash and he admired his work. A criss-cross of welts burned across Jay’s back, some leaking drops of blood. “Don’t want to render you completely inactive for the rest of the evening.” He threw the belt to the ground next to Jay, who was now on his hands and knees panting hard.

“I suggest you keep your suit jacket on,” Zayne warned with a smile. “I’m sure you don’t want anyone to notice anything should your wounds start to bleed through your shirt.”

He stepped passed Jay, not making any attempt to see how the man was doing or to help him up.

“I wish I could come watch your presentation, though. I have no doubt it would be quite… captivating.” And with that, he closed the door, leaving Jay in his agony.


	2. Consequences

Jay was left panting on the floor on his hands and knees. The sound of the door closing snapped him back to reality. He had to go, no time to wallow in— _oh fffuck!_ He bit his lip to hold back a grunt as he pushed himself up. Every little movement sent sharp waves of pain through his back and he was trembling from exertion. He was just about ready to keel over, actually really wanted to just fall over and sprawl on the floor to give his body a break but he willed himself to get going. He crawled over to the couch to use it in support and with a lot of effort managed to get himself to stand up.

He staggered to the kitchen and leaned heavily on the counter top for a breather, hunching over with a hiss, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain. He opened the drawer in search of painkillers. Hopefully they’d kick in by the time he was back at the office and he could spare himself an awkward evening. Without looking, his hand moved automatically to the right, feeling around in the corner of the drawer where he kept two boxes stacked on top of each other. But his fingers brushed over nothing until they reached the bottom. Confused, he opened his eyes and looked down. No pills.

“That motherfucker!” he yelled and slammed the drawer shut with a powerful sweep. That asshole had stolen all his painkillers. _Fine!_ He’d just get some new ones on the way.

The anger subsided, violently replaced with more pain as his back protested against the sudden movement he had made. He clasped his back with both hands, leaning back. _Damn_ , that hurt. No more sudden and aggressive movement this evening, he chastised himself.

Annoyed, he made a mental note to start carrying pills on him at all times.

In the bathroom he quickly inspected the damage before he threw on a shirt. He strained his neck to look back in the mirror. One of the angry red welts was bleeding slightly. Probably from that vicious first strike. He wondered if he should clean the cuts, but he didn’t have time for it now, so he settled for just dabbing the blood away.  
He took one of the larger plasters, the box mercifully left in the cabinet, aimed well, and slapped it to his back. A flash of pain told him he aimed right in the middle of the wound.

His body wasn’t moving as he wanted and it paid no attention to the hurry in his mind, to the flurry of thoughts that spurred him on. Lifting his arms was murder and he struggled to get his t-shirt on. His fingers were still trembling hard, making it difficult to button up his dress shirt. The rush in his movements didn’t help, nor did his irritation when the buttons kept springing back.

He almost wanted to cry in frustration. Nothing worked, nothing went his way, yet everything hurt.

When he was finally ready, as ready as he could be, he took a deep breath to calm himself. Outside, he glanced at his bike. Didn’t seem like a good idea now. Instead, he started walking in the direction of the office, looking for a cab along the way. After a bit he spotted one, got in, and told the driver where to go. With a sigh, he eased back cautiously, but as the car accelerated he was pushed into the backseat and he repressed a small cry. He shifted uncomfortably and decided it was better to just hunch forward.

He pulled out his phone to tell Dennis he was on his way. The phone buzzed in his hand; incoming message.

_Get any painkillers and I’ll make you swallow them all next time I’m over :)_

Not Dennis.

_Zayne. Fucking asshole._ For a moment, Jay considered the sweet release of an overdose. Being unconscious was one hell of a painkiller and hospital seemed like a safe place to be. But he decided against it. He was sure Zayne couldn’t keep an eye on him at all times ( _right?!)_ but the pain in his back flared in warning and he didn’t want to risk it. Besides, it would be hard to explain to everyone why he was suddenly in hospital getting his stomach pumped.

Jay looked at the passive-aggressive smiley, mocking him, almost daring him to disobey. Zayne really wanted to make things as uncomfortable for him as possible, stirring up trouble and making it hard for Jay to hide everything. It was almost as if he wanted Jay to get caught and having to tell the disturbing story. Yet his warning, _threat_ , to stay quiet during his first visit contradicted that behaviour. It was a mystery.

Trying a stealthy approach when he arrived, Jay slipped into the meeting room. He was sure he imagined it but he wanted to avoid the staring, judging eyes of his colleagues. Even though he was only about ten minutes late. The meeting had just started and his friends were happy to see him, but in his self-consciousness Jay didn’t see their relief, his anxious mind only whispering baseless accusations about how he made them worry.

The pain in his back radiated his guilt. He held up a hand in apology as he entered and immediately grimaced at the movement, but he was able to play it off as if he was sorry for being late.

Luckily it was a stand-up meeting, so he didn’t have to worry about shifting uncomfortably in his chair. Standing up straight, though, was taking its toll as well and by the time it was his turn he was sweating like a pig.  
He gripped the sides of the little podium hard, using it as a support to keep himself up. His nerves and attempts to bite back the pain only made his temperature rise further, but he refused to take off his jacket, Zayne’s warning echoing in his mind.

His arms were trembling under his weight and he could only hope that people wouldn’t notice from a distance, nor his white knuckles with his hands closing desperately around the edges.

He spoke much faster than usual. A combination of both nerves and just wanting to get this over with as fast as he could.

Once they were all finished, Dennis walked up to him. “Thanks for coming back in, Jay. I know you’ve been running around town all day.” He gave him a pat on the back.

Jay tensed up and clenched his teeth to bite back a scream. “No problem,” he heard himself say through a forced smile.

As Jay explained he came by cab, Dennis immediately offered him a ride home. Jay accepted, reluctant but secretly a little relieved. He just wanted to get home as quickly as possible and go to sleep. He wondered if it would be safe to ask Dennis for an aspirin or something. Technically, it wouldn’t go against Zayne’s order. But he didn’t want to lie to his friend again. There had been too many headaches, too many pulled muscles, and Dennis was already a little suspicious.

So instead, Jay forced himself to sit back and endure every speed bump, every crack in the road, every sudden brake, and just kept his face a blank.

At home, he lingered at his front door. The familiar panicked butterflies in his stomach revived.

_Please. Please let the house be empty._ He couldn’t take another visit. _Please_.

He quietly opened the door, lit all the lights, searched through every room to make sure Zayne wouldn’t surprise him as Jay would make for bed. Once he made sure no one was in the house, he allowed himself to breath and an immense exhaustion washed over him. It was only 7pm or so, he hadn’t eaten yet, but he just wanted to sleep.

He fell face forward onto his bed, not bothering to undress, and fell asleep almost immediately.


	3. After hours

“Jay, I don’t mind you busting your ass, but it’s 7pm. I’m about to close up, come on. Don’t you have anyone waiting for you at home?” His boss winked at him.

 _I do, probably, that’s the point,_ Jay thought bitterly.

Ever since Zayne had taken to sporadically invading his home he put off going home on time. Dealing with this Schrödinger’s intruder was nerve-wracking. Is he there? Or is it safe? No way to know unless you open the door. Opening his front door and walking into the unknown, checking whether Zayne was there waiting for him or not was stressing him out way more than he’d think. He couldn’t ask friends to meet him at home, he couldn’t relax and watch a movie or read, his concentration always broken by strange sounds. He found himself constantly alert, always listening for any sounds indicating someone was at the front door. He had trouble sleeping, worried Zayne would sneak in in the middle of the night, getting the drop on him. His safe place was gone.

And that was only the stress when Zayne wasn’t there, or at least not in his direct line of vision yet. He found himself freezing up when he heard the familiar voice inviting him in, to his own home. Inviting him to the promise of pain, to carefully prepared beatings that would hurt but not disable, bruise but not scar. Pain easy to hide. Or at least pain that wouldn’t be directly visible.

The extra hours at work might come in handy though; sooner or later Zayne would go too far and Jay would need to take some extra time off with no questions asked or a company doctor checking in on him.

A little reluctantly, he started packing up. “I’ll go with you.”

He tensed up, as always lately when the end of the workday would draw near. Where other people would rejoice the clock reaching 5pm, for Jay it just meant more butterflies in his stomach. His hands trembling whenever he packed his laptop into his bag. His evening bike commute filled with desire to just get hit by a car.

Back at home he’d always try to see if there were any signs that the door had been opened, or if he could see any lights on, maybe spot some footprints or hear sounds from inside. But Zayne was meticulous and never dropped any hints.

Upon opening the door it was clear someone was already there and Zayne welcomed him home enthusiastically.

“You’re so late, darling. Do they keep making you work overtime?“ Sarcasm flowed through his voice. "Do I need to go in and rough someone up for keeping you after hours?”

Jay was too tired to play this game. “Please don’t,” he just said, flatly, dropping his keys and bag.

“See? Look at that lukewarm reaction. You’re dead tired.”

“Yeah, I wonder why.”

Zayne grinned. “Let’s get you pumped up a little.”

Jay tensed up, but stayed silent and didn’t try to move. He lingered at the door, too afraid to enter his own _fucking_ living room.

“Where’s your belt?” Zayne asked. “The nice one, with the braided texture.”

 _The one I used before to beat you senseless with,_ Jay added for him in silence. “I threw it away.”

“What, why? I didn’t get any blood on it I think?”

“It was ruined anyway,” Jay simply bit.

Zayne gave a soft smile but didn’t press any further. “Give me the one you’re wearing then.”

Jay grit his teeth. “You’ve been raiding my closet, right? There’s plenty other belts. Or just use your own.” It was humiliating enough to allow himself to be beaten like that, but to hand a weapon to his tormentor like a chastised schoolboy was too much.

Without saying anything, Zayne just extended his open hand and gave him a sharp look.

This unnerved Jay; he knew that look meant trouble if he kept pushing. He fumbled for an excuse. “My trousers will come down.” He mentally slapped himself as soon as the words had escaped his lips. It drew a hearty laugh from Zayne. Well, at least it lightened the mood.

“Don’t worry, Jay, I’m not going to spank your buttocks. Now stop stalling and do as I say.”

The immediate shift in tone from cheerful to an intimidating low rumble told Jay that he shouldn’t push his luck. In defeat he undid his belt and laid it gently in Zayne’s still open hand.

He took a step back and grabbed his shirt, ready to take it off, but Zayne hummed his objection and just moved his finger in a circle to signal for Jay to turn around. A little confused, Jay obliged. Zayne stepped closer, took the hem of his shirt and lifted it slowly. He let his cold fingers trail over the now healed welts. Jay shivered a little; he wasn’t sure if it was because of Zayne’s cold hands, his unwanted touch and proximity, or because he was imagining new lines forming across his back, new fire slashing across the old fading pain.

“Nice. Turn around again.”

Again, Jay did as he was told. He fought the urge to step away and looked up to meet Zayne’s eyes.

“Hold out your hand.”

Realization dawned on Jay. _Fuck._ Should he plead? It never really worked… Maybe offer his back instead? But he wasn’t sure he could handle another day hiding fresh welts. Still, he needed his hands for everything, _damn it!_

He held out his left hand.

The corner of Zayne’s lips curved into a cruel smile. His hands were playing with the belt, doubling it over and pulling on it. “Don’t try to make this easy on yourself. You’re right-handed. But if you insist.” He flicked the belt down on Jay’s open palm to swat his hand away. It wasn’t enough to cause a red mark, but the warning was clear. Jay yelped and pulled back. Zayne let him and gestured for his right hand.

A flood of resignation crashed over Jay. _Fine then_.

Zayne grabbed his wrist and turned the trembling palm up.

“How many you want?”

“Five?” Jay tried. His eyes flicked up to Zayne, hoping to find a little mercy. The narrowed eyes didn’t offer any.

It just earned him another chuckle. “Should’ve known not to ask you. Thirty. And that’s me being nice.” He let go of Jay’s wrist, testing if Jay would let his arm fall back down, but he did as he was told and kept it out.

“Get on your knees for me.”

Jay shook his head.

A harsh slap echoed through the room and Jay’s head snapped to the side by the sheer force of it. He stumbled back, clutching his face in surprise. Zayne pulled the belt back in a backhand, threatening another yet more brutal hit and Jay sank to his knees, his hands out in surrender.

Zayne had never hit him in the face. Too dangerous. Too risky. Bruises on the face couldn’t be hidden, were hard to explain.

“Stay like that. Keep you palm up and open. Close it into a fist and we’ll start over.”

“Will you get going already?” Jay’s arm was already shaking in protest and he just wanted to get this over with.

The first slap rang out and Jay winced as the belt flew just past his face. His hand flexed in response and he fought to keep it open. It hurt, but not enough to draw a scream yet. Still, he shouldn’t count his blessings as Zayne was just testing the waters and sure as hell the second hit was a lot harder. It forced out a loud curse, mercifully ignored. By number five, Zayne had found a good middle point and kept his strength even.

Jay just struggled presenting his hand. He put his other hand on his thigh to keep pushing himself up. His fingers dug into the skin with each hit.

He hissed as the belt snapped over his fingers. “Wait a second,” he said flexing his hand, but he waited for permission before he drew back. He just wanted to shake his hand a little and give his arm a break. “Let me—FUCK!” A new hit crossed over the tense muscles.

“No breaks if you don’t want to start over.”

By twenty Jay was shaking all over, his head drooped down and he struggled to sit up. He pushed his arm up by the elbow to keep himself from jerking back as the blows kept ringing out. His hand was tingling all over, burning, every nerve end stinging.

The last hit, last scream, and Jay sagged down in relief. His hand was still locked in position, the muscles in his arm and hand rigid. Zayne took advantage, flicking the belt down again.

“That’s thirty-one! Stop!” Jay quickly pulled his hand back and tucked it under his other arm.

“Ah, so you were counting.”

The belt fell down, the soft _tink_ of the belt buckle hitting the floor signalling the end of the beating, giving Jay permission to crumble to pieces. He tumbled over on his knees, cradling his burning hand to his chest. He rocked back and forth, biting back whimpers, going lower and lower until his forehead almost touched down on the rug. It may be over, for now, but he still protected his hand with his body, all hunched over. He flinched as he heard Zayne’s footsteps circling him, but they moved away from him.

_Please go. Leave. Get out._

“That got you out of your funk?”

“No.” Jay grumbled, instantly regretting the single word as the footsteps drew closer again.

“Better make sure you’re home on time from now on.” Zayne pulled him up by the hair and looked him dead in the eyes. “No more hiding out on me.”

“Forgive me if I don’t care whether I get beat at 6pm or 7pm.”

“Yes, you do. You’d leave work on time if you didn’t care.”

 _Okay_ , maybe it was just the rampant fear holding Jay back, but he wasn’t going to inform Zayne of that.

“Or you could say, the sooner you get beat into the ground, the more time you have to recuperate,” Zayne advised, like he had the best of intentions, as if he cared about Jay’s wellbeing. “Take an early night. Get to bed on time and all.”

Like Jay hadn’t thought about that yet. Logic didn’t really play much of a role when your life gets turned upside down like this.

His head was roughly pushed down, but the fist tightened in his blonde spikes uncurled and drew back.

“Think about it, hm.” And with that, Zayne was gone.

Jay sat back against the couch, trying to even his breathing and letting the stress seep out of his body. His stomach growled. As if life just continued like that, he scoffed. Mercilessly going on. As if he hadn’t other things to think about. As if he could _fucking_ prepare himself a meal right now. Shut the fuck up, stomach.

He held out his hands next to each other. His right hand was shaking hard and was all red and swollen. Jay forced himself to slump to the kitchen and let cold water run over the angry skin hoping to tone it down. Luckily, there was no blood. Still holding his hand under the tap, he reached down and peeked into the fridge, looking for any leftovers. _Nothing_. Not like he actually had time to get groceries or something. _Take-out?_

His right hand automatically reached out to close the tap, his muscle memory not taking any consequences into account. When his fingers curled around the handle, a wave of pain shot though his hand and with a yelp he pulled back.

His yelp of pain turned into a scream and he kicked the fridge door closed in frustration. _God!_ He was just so goddamn sick of it all. Thinking he should consider himself lucky that this was all that happened this evening. Hoping that tomorrow evening he might catch a break and just spend his evening waiting in fear. Bending over backwards to come up with excuses! _All of it!_

He sank to his knees, resting his head against the counter, tears dropped down to the floor. Was he really going to have to accept that this was his life now? Sleep, work, eat, get beat, repeat. He was still resisting his fate, still in the anger phase. Getting to acceptance was going to be a long road. And if he did accept it, would it actually get easier?

Or would acceptance equal breaking?


	4. Love in an elevator

Jay had spent his evening googling all sorts of hand injuries and rejected them all as excuses. Until the answer slapped him in the face, or burned his hand rather, when he was making himself a cup of tea. The cup was too hot for his sensitive hand to hold and the heat sparked his brain to work. Burned hand on the kettle. _Perfect_.

Wasted an entire evening on that and he didn’t see a lot of people today, nor did anyone ask or give him weird looks, but well, all part of the anxiety.

Best to have an excuse ready. It had served him well over these past few weeks to come prepared and even though some people started to become sceptical, Jay knew it was human nature that when push came to shove, they didn’t want to know either way. Some people had already stopped asking, though he could feel their eyes lasering in his back when he stumbled to the coffee machine. But his closer friends and colleagues were more persistent.

He sighed. The office space was starting to empty out. He glanced at the time. 5.15pm. Not too bad. Would make it home on time today. He had a slight glimmer of hope that he’d have a quiet evening. Zayne didn’t usually come around every night.

“Jay, someone’s waiting for you out front.”

And, his hopes shattered. He looked up. One of his colleagues was leaning in the doorway.

“Who?” he asked cautiously, but his colleague just shrugged.

“Didn’t ask, he just asked if you were still in.” He walked out again and Jay, anxious, followed.

_Please be a client. Please be a story. Please be a reason for overtime._

But it wasn’t. There he was, the disaster devil, flirting with the receptionist. Zayne perked up when he noticed Jay and waved. Jay just wanted to bang his head through a wall.

“I was in the neighbourhood, so I figured I’d come pick you up.” His eyes, his posture, his cover, all carefully crafted to form an innocent excuse, but Jay knew better.

Fully aware of where they were and the people walking past them, Jay stopped himself from lashing out. He just stared, a bunch of sounds stuck in his throat that would turn into protests if he could remember how to form words. Without screaming. When his brain gave the error (patience not found), he just released all stuttering into a sigh and grabbed Zayne by the arm to guide him over to the elevators.

“What in the fuck are you doing?” he whisper-hissed.

“You were so late the other day. I just wanted to make sure you’ve at least considered my advice.” Zayne let himself be pulled along, his tone of voice cheerful.

Feeling like all eyes were on the pair (they weren’t) Jay quickly steered them into an empty elevator and pressed the button. Only when the doors fully closed he came to his senses. He’d been too keen to get away from prying eyes that he didn’t think about how safe being in public was. Now he was stuck in a box. _Bad idea_. He shifted over to a far corner and kept his eyes on Zayne.

They stood in silence, until Zayne started humming. _Awkward elevator ride from hell._

The elevator stopped and Jay looked up, hope in his eyes. If someone else got in he’d feel a little bit more safe. It would lead to other concerns, but at least it wouldn’t include pain.

But the doors didn’t open. And the elevator didn’t continue going down. In fact, nothing happened. Zayne glanced over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow.

Jay just glared at Zayne’s back as the man pushed all the buttons.

"Did you arrange for this to happen?" He growled.

"Jay please, do you honestly think I would go that far?" Zayne said, still inspecting the button panel. He looked round as he heard no reply and caught the suspicion in Jay's eyes. "Okay yeah, I would if I could but I didn't! Honestly! I wouldn’t even know how."

“Right. Why are you even here then?”

“Like I said. You’re late again.”

“Yeah well, maybe if you didn’t shred my hands I would be able to type up an article on time!”

In his anger Jay didn’t catch the warning signs: Zayne looking up, his eyes roaming the corners and ceiling of the elevator, looking for camera’s.

Zayne closed in on him with single step. He caught him by the throat with one hand and slammed him hard against the wall. Jay’s grunt was cut off when the pressure around his throat increased. His hands automatically curled around Zayne’s forearm, the bandage around it touched against Zayne’s skin, the red skin underneath flared up. Zayne allowed him his weak struggle and pushed forward, pressing Jay further against the wall with his body and he leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

“Be very careful, Jay.”

Pressure let up and Jay took in a gulp of air. He mewled and struggled but Zayne didn’t let go. Added a hand, in fact, the thumbs crossing over each other to press lightly against his trachea in warning. Jay’s eyes widened in fear. _He fucked up_. _Woke the wolf_. His mouth opened in a stutter to protest.

Just before he could, they were interrupted by a disembodied voice coming from the speaker.

"We're working on the defect. Is everything all right in there?"

"Marvellous!" Zayne replied, his hands still on Jay’s neck.

“Great! Don’t worry, it’ll probably only take about 15 minutes.” And with that the intercom crackled and they heard a click.

“You hear that, dear? What shall we do with the 15 minutes given to us?”

“Get away from me.” Jay found his voice again.

“We’re inside a box, dear. It’s like a square metre,” Zayne said, firmly pressing up against Jay in their snug corner. “There’s not much room to give you. It’s a bit of a squeeze.” He emphasized with a squeeze of his hands around Jay’s neck.

Jay tensed and turned his head in disgust, away from him. The feeling of Zayne’s breath on his face only spurred on his own breathing. He let out a miniscule sigh of relief when one of the hands on his throat let up, only for his shoulders to tense up again once the fingers touched on his chin and Zayne tilted his face back front. He found Zayne’s amused eyes taking him in.

“Well, this is convenient anyway.” Zayne let his hand drop from Jay’s chin. “Let’s talk about your excessive use of overtime and the reason I’m here. Believe it or not Jay, but I have a schedule to keep as well.”

“Then just get your ass out of my house!” Anger triumphed over fear. For a moment.

A brutal punch in the stomach made him double over in pain. Zayne pushed him back against the metal wall. Jay sputtered and groaned, leaning heavily against the hand to his shoulder. His head was tilted up until they made eye contact. The amused eyes had darkened over.

“From now on, you will text me when you leave work. You will text me when you are held up or delayed. If I want you to come home immediately, you will.”

Jay couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What are you, my mum?!”

In reply he just got three more hits to the side of his abdomen. He clutched at Zayne’s t-shirt, clenched a hand around Zayne’s leather-clad shoulder to keep himself from crashing down, but his strength left him and he fell to his knees in pain.

“I’m way worse than your mum.”

“I don’t know, man. Have you met her?” Jay forced out. _God_ , he hoped that rib hadn’t cracked. Judging from the pain he was pushing it. Pushing Zayne, which he shouldn’t. He curled up whispering curses to the floor.

A hand pulled him back up by his hair and he yelped.

“I’m not kidding, Jay. You are either home on time or I will… enforce these rules. Stick to nine to five if you don’t want me swinging by the office again. Okay?”

When Jay didn’t (couldn’t) answer yet, Zayne swung his other hand up, a threatening backhand looming in the air. He didn’t strike yet and even though Jay knew he wouldn’t hit him in the face now, he still flinched back.

“Okay,” he whispered in defeat.

“Good. That’s ten minutes left. What else do we need to discuss?”

“Nothing. You’ve made your point!” But Zayne crouched down next to him, a fist clenched, and Jay pushed back in horror. “No, get away!”

Before the hand could curl around his necktie, Jay recoiled hard and swatted at the hand gripping his hair. When Zayne released, Jay fell on his bum. He scrambled back in a panic until he collided once again with the metal wall. He quickly pushed himself up against it.

Zayne stepped forward, slowly, encroaching on Jay’s personal space. His hand slammed against the wall, just nearly missing Jay’s face. He took advantage of Jay’s flinch, this time letting his fingers curl around the tie to pull Jay forward. His other hand slithered to Jay’s battered ribcage and, ignoring the ‘no don’t’, gave a squeeze. Jay almost buckled.

“Please,” he rasped. “Stop.” He was terrified of Zayne going too far and that they’d have to carry him out of this damned elevator. They’d know. They’d call the police. All worse-case scenarios shot through his mind. It was too dangerous to lose his strength here, in public. He had to be able to walk out of here. He _had to_.

“We could continue our conversation… elsewhere?”

Jay sobbed, but gave a nod. Anything to get out of here. The pull around his neck disappeared and Zayne let the silky material slide through his fingers.

The elevator gave a sudden jolt and sprang back to life. _Right on cue._ The jolt went right though Jay’s jelly legs and he slumped against the wall to slide down, suddenly exhausted.

“Tuck your shirt in, Jay.”

Fighting back a ‘yes, mum’, Jay sat up on his knees. Now that most of the adrenaline had left his body, he didn’t trust his legs yet to carry his weight. His shirt had come undone in the struggles, and he obediently tucked it back in. Not so much because of Zayne’s order; keeping up appearance was more important now. Straighten his tie. Push his glasses up, though they slipped down again immediately and Jay dabbed at the sweat on his face.

He looked back up at Zayne, almost like he was looking for approval, and he struggled to his feet when he got a nod. Immediately, he swayed on his feet and fell against the wall, his hurt ribs taking the damage.

“Fuck!” The elevator took no notice of his distress and kept droning down, effectively setting up a time limit for Jay to get his shit in order. Jay cursed his pain and stress out.

Zayne drew nearer to help him up and Jay flinched back, but when the elevator doors opened, he had no choice but to accept the hand on his back.

Two mechanics and the building manager were waiting for them on the ground floor, happy to see they could get out.

“Whoa, Jay, you okay, man? You look like you might throw up.”

“I’mmm, _god_ , I’m…fine,” Jay managed to get out, leaning heavily on Zayne who’d thrown his arm over his shoulder to hold Jay up.

“He had a bit of a panic attack,” Zayne said, a pained and empathic expression on his face. “Claustrophobic.”

“Oh man, I’m sorry we couldn’t help you sooner.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine. I just want to—“

 _Go home? Really?_ He swallowed the words.

“It’s okay,” he heard Zayne’s voice. _No, it’s not._ “I’ll get him home.”

_No!_

“Okay.”


	5. Flashback

\- A month earlier -

Jay took the corner and wooshed his bike straight into the little alley next to his apartment. It was starting to get late and he didn’t feel like fumbling around in the dark, trying to get it into the little shed behind the building. So he just parked it against the wall. He’d just get it out tomorrow morning again.

He bent over to fiddle with the lock when he heard something behind him. “Hey”? He couldn’t hear well over traffic.

“Yes?” He straightened up and turned, expecting a neighbour.

Before he could even look at the person standing behind him, his head snapped to the side and he lost his balance as he spiralled down. His hands and knees grazed over the ground, scraping at his skin, but he managed to keep himself from crashing down onto his stomach. While the adrenaline automatically spurred his body to move, his brain was a little slower on the uptake.

_What? What the fuck!? What happened? Did someone fucking punch me?!_

He made to turn and face his attacker, but a kick to the chin foiled his plan and this time he had to surrender to gravity as it sent him flying back. With a grunt he landed on his shoulder, his hands stretched out in defence but no more blows came.

Adrenaline seared through him, dulling the pain and now, finally, sharpening his mind. _Trouble! Danger!_ It shouted at him.

When Jay looked up he still couldn’t identify his assailant. The dark figure in front of him took a step towards him into the alley. Jay scrambled back. He’d meant to fight back and defend himself, but the intimidating sight before him stopped him. The person was wearing all black leather and concealed their face with a motorcycle helmet. Even the visor was black and revealed nothing. The only thing Jay could see was that this person did not have good intentions.

His blood chilled. The fight knocked out of him. His escape route cut off. All that’s left was…

“Wait, don’t! I’ll give you my wallet, there’s a laptop in that bag, just—“ _just what? Don’t kill me? Better not give this guy any ideas._ He stammered and reached to his bag, lying forgotten behind him.

“I’m not interested in your stuff, Jay.”

_What?_

The mention of his name caught him off-guard. _Who is this? What is this?!_

He froze, still half turned to his bag, wanting to make it easy for the robber and hand him the fucking goods if only he’d be left in one piece. But… this wasn’t a mugging? The sound of the visor clicking and opening, the soft shuffle of a helmet being pulled over a head made him look back to the figure slowly, not sure he wanted to see.

Their eyes met and Jay stared in disbelief. He didn’t have to think twice and recognised the man immediately. His thick dark hair, brushed back out of his brown eyes, the soft stubble of a beard framing his face. But what had always stood out weren’t the man’s physical features; what Jay remembered most was his mannerism and intent. The come-get-me attitude, the familiar devilish grin combined with the twinkle in his eyes. And those eyes, like before, looked at him as if he were prey.

_No…_

_No! This was over! Over and done with. Chapter closed!_

The man grinned down at him.

“Been a while, Jay.”

“Zayne…” was all Jay could stammer.

It was like a shudder went through him, head to toes, and he could feel the tremor of his body shift in cadence. The soft tremble of the adrenaline prepping him, the tense muscles bracing him for fight or flight, it changed to a deeper feeling. The source shifted from the logical automatic stress responses in his brain, to a deep gut feeling; the memories that resurfaced, the flashbacks of pain and horror, the delight in that voice and the amusement in those eyes that promised horrible things. The fear he had felt then was bubbling up and gripping him tight once again, stilling him to his core.

“Wh- why are you--?” Jay probably knew very well why he was here. His own fear told him all he needed to know. But he didn’t want to consider the possibilities, either ending up dead or beaten to a pulp in this fucking alley.

“Well, I’m back in town. Just wanted to come check on you,” Zayne said sweetly.

 _Not good not good!_ Jay felt his heart hammering against his ribs.

“No… no, please, get away from me!”

“Aw, don’t be like that, Jay. Here I was hoping we could spend some time together.”

Jay, stunned into silence by his fear, didn’t know what to say. Besides multiple repetitions of the word ‘no!’.

He heard the click of the hammer before he noticed the gun. The sound made him freeze up, his breathe stilled. _Oh, god, no._

“You know, like old times,” Zayne continued, ripping open old hurt, slashing up new threats. He tapped the gun against his leg, raising it slowly.

“No, please!” Jay cowered at the gun aimed at him, but mostly at the words that implied a repeat of last time. He couldn’t spend another week locked up with Zayne. Victim to the whims of a man who at the time was supposed to just watch him and make sure he wouldn’t get out, but got bored easy and came up with increasingly painful ideas to just pass the time.

_What would hurt more, Jay? Stabbed in the leg? Your arm? Don’t you wanna find out?_

_Hey Jay, what do you think would happen if I were to just…._

He pushed the repressed memories back where they belonged, far back in his mind.

“No…” his voice cracked and he stumbled over the words. “You can’t. I’m not going with you. You can’t take me—“

Zayne laughed. “I’m not taking you anywhere. I don’t have time to babysit you all day again and I don’t want people to come looking for you.” He motioned for Jay to get up.

Then what… what is this? Pure intimidation? Because, hell, it was working. Jay struggled to get his jelly legs to support his weight and leaned an arm against the wall.

Zayne took the trembling figure in with a smile. “Don’t get me wrong. You think you’re off the hook for almost getting me arrested? Fuck’s sake, it took me two years to rebuild everything. And Jay…” He stepped closer, the smile disappeared.

Jay buckled back in fear, saving Zayne the trouble of having to shove him against the alley wall.

“Jay,” he repeated in a growl, teasing the cold gun around his jaw, arm against his throat, his gaze locked on Jay’s wide blue eyes. “Be honest, you got off lightly.”

A whimper escaped his throat. Jay begged to differ. A week in pain, stress, fear. Another week in hospital. More revalidation. Fucking therapy. Two years of looking over his shoulder. Changing his career path to make sure this, _this_ , wouldn’t happen again.

“Please,” he stuttered, his air restricted by Zayne’s arm against his throat and by his own fear. “Leave me alone. Please. I’m sorry. Whatever you’re planning this time, I won’t get in the way, _please!”_ Because that must be it, right? Just a warning not to interfere like last time. It can’t be more. Please, he couldn’t handle more.

Zayne shushed him gently. “It’s okay. I know you’re not gonna snoop around. You learned your lesson. Right?”

A ticklish sensation rushed over Jay’s skin as the hairs stood on end. He nodded against Zayne’s arm. He’d agree to pretty much anything for now, but it was true.

“Good. Then all that’s left is the matter of repayment.”

Jay’s heart sank. _No. No, please._

“It’s okay,” the man cooed again. “Like I said, I’m not taking you anywhere. You can just keep on living your life. Do your thing. Go to work. Pretend like everything is fine. And I’ll just… come ‘round to play every now and then. Pass the time. Have a few beers. Rekindle our friendship.”

 _Play._ _Like old times._ Jay knew what it meant in this context.

“And because you know better now, you’re not gonna call the police. Hm?” The gun pressed into Jay’s abdomen in warning.

“No,” Jay whispered.

“That’s right. Because we’re gonna be friends.”

The pressure against his throat lifted and Jay sank to his knees. This couldn’t be happening, right? Life couldn’t change this fast, in just a few minutes. _Right?!_ He sat there absolutely paralysed, watching Zayne stoop over to get his helmet, and caught a wink before the visor snapped shut again.

“Then I’ll see you again soon, _pal._ ”


	6. To keep quiet

After Zayne’s threat, Jay had tried to push the experience out of his mind. He was sure it was just intimidation, nothing more. A bit of fun. A way to get to him. And that’s it.

That is until he came home a couple days later and found someone waiting for him, sprawled over his couch, legs casually crossed and taking up as much space as he could.

“You’ve got some nerve,” Jay growled.

Zayne quirked an eyebrow. “You’ve got a lot more bite when you’re not writhing on the ground.”

 _Yeah, no shit_. Because getting mugged in a dark alley is such a wonderful comfort zone. Well, his actual comfort zone was now under active invasion. Didn’t do wonders to keep his fear in check either, but at least this time he could still flee. He didn’t yet, though, but he lingered at a safe distance. If push came to shove he could still bolt out the door.

“So is this how it’s gonna be? You breaking into my apartment with whatever horrid plan you have?”

“Basically, yeah.”

“You expect me to just go along with that?”

“If I were you, I’d make sure I wouldn’t tell anyone what is going to happen between these walls. And outside of it.” Zayne didn’t look up, just leisurely talked off into space. “That includes the police.”

“Oh yeah? And what are you going to do about it?” The warning still pounded in Jay’s head, but he found he didn’t entirely care. Being beaten to hell once was a good price to pay to get Zayne behind bars.

“You know, I’m not entirely sure yet.” Zayne threw his head back, letting it rest on the backrest like his arms, which were spread out wide over the length. He swirled a glass in his hand, copiously filled with Jay’s nice whiskey which he graciously helped himself to before Jay got home.

Jay scoffed. “Thought so.” He fished his phone out of his pocket and started calling the alarm number.

“No, I mean,” Zayne talked up to the ceiling, “ _how_ I will do it. I know most of your friends are at your workplace, so… I could just plant a bomb in your office, take out all your colleagues at once. Or I could go in with an M4. Or maybe I should go for a more personal route, take whoever I can, preferably on your floor and just kill them slowly. With a knife, or strangle them, maybe a neck shot here and there… Definitely make sure they know this is on you. Maybe I’ll just drag you in with me so you can see what you did.”

The casual way all these threats were delivered made Jay’s skin _crawl_. His thumb stilled over the call button when he heard the word ‘bomb’ and he felt his heartrate increase with every subsequent word. He slowly looked up from his phone to look Zayne in the eyes. The man just sat there and turned his head to him; no grin, no twinkle in his eyes. _Oh, god he was actually serious._

“You…” Jay coughed the fear out of his throat that was constricting his voice. “You wouldn’t… you’d be arrested immediately.”

“Not immediately, like I said, take whoever I can.”

“And rot in jail for it?”

The flicker of amusement Jay was so familiar with finally returned to Zayne’s eyes. “Well, let me return the question.” Zayne leaned forward on his knees. “Would you be able to live with it? Could you go back to work after, knowing you had _killed_ so many of your friends. Or well, maybe there won’t even be an office for you to return to. All depends on my mood, I guess.”

And that was the moment where Jay felt his life slip out of his grasp. Not so much slipped as in violently snatched away. Zayne had him right where he wanted. He knew Jay wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ , call that bluff. If it even was a bluff. But there were still some loopholes.

“I’ll just have you arrested before you get the chance.” Jay tried in a tone of confidence that even to his ears sounded fake and shaky. “Officer, there’s a strange man in my house who wants to kill me.”

It didn’t have the intended effect. It merely gained him an amused chuckle. “I’m not going to kill you, Jay. I told you, we’re gonna have fun.”

At this point Jay wasn’t sure what was worse.

Zayne languidly pushed himself up from the couch and stood straight, sipping at his (Jay’s) whiskey. His eyes still fixed on Jay narrowed ever so slightly when Jay fell a step back as he saw the man get up. He stalked across the room away from Jay, looking at the photographs and knickknacks displayed on the TV cabinet before he spoke again.

“You remember the team, right?” Zayne asked, as if changing the subject. He turned and jabbed the glass towards Jay. “You know, like Burke. He almost twisted your arm off and we all had a right laugh as you squealed like a pig.”

Jay froze when the traumatic memories were so casually brought back up. It felt like an invasion of his mind; grubby hands clawing about, wrenching close guarded memories away from where they’d been buried deep. So deep that Jay could almost forget about them. But now he could feel the vice-like grip on his neck again, pretty much bending him over at the waist as his arm was forced up against his back.

Zayne acknowledged the soft whimper and gasp with a casual swatting gesture. “This time I don’t feel like sharing, don’t you worry. They don’t know about this little side gig.”

He snapped his fingers to bring Jay back from memory lane. This was important after all.

“But I did tell ‘em that if I’m sleeping in the nick all of a sudden, it’s probably because of that press rat. Again. And let me tell you that my guys won’t take kindly to that. I think I should share my plans for explosive office renovation with them.”

Jay closed his eyes in resignation. The fact that Zayne came so prepared tightened a knot in his stomach. This wasn’t just some spur of the moment revenge thing. At the same time it pissed him off greatly.

“Wait. So if you get lifted for having a few too many my friends get bombed to oblivion?”

“I’ll make sure to let them know in time,” Zayne said with a grin. “Wouldn’t wanna lose my leverage because I got hammered.”

Jay leaned against the armrest of the couch. He tried to ignore Zayne’s leering, the amused eyes taking in the struggles to find a way out of this. Okay, so Jay couldn’t sound the alarm. But that didn’t mean that someone else wouldn’t.

“People will notice. If I show up at work, bruised and broken.”

“That sounds very much like a you problem.”

Yeah, not sure what he expected there with that attempt. _Oh my, Jay. You’re quite right. Let’s blow the whole thing off._ Would be nice to hear those words but entirely unrealistic. Meaning he’d have to hide freakin’ everything and one misstep would mean--

Jay’s mind raced. There was one final option.

“I could kill you,” he tried, desperate. But his tone of voice betrayed him.

Zayne laughed at that. “Could you?” He gave a sceptical look mixed with delight. “Well, I’ll amuse you. If you kill me, same thing really. Someone else will take over.”

And that was it, really. He was stuck.

“I’ll keep quiet,” Jay whispered.

“That’s right.”


	7. First time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mixed up the titles for chapter 6 and 7. This one is 'First time'. Chapter 6 is "To keep quiet".

Jay peeked around the corner of his own front door. These days he made sure to keep the door to the living room open, so he could immediately see if someone was there. His couch could be seen from across the hall and luckily no one was chilling on it today.

He let out a sigh of relief and entered his flat.

Zayne was doing this on purpose, he was sure of it. Letting him simmer for a couple days, imagine the worst. Jay had no idea what Zayne had in store for him. Just that it wasn’t good. Possibly painful. Very painful.

When he heard a sound behind him, it was already too late. A hand clasped to his mouth, an arm snaked around his neck. _No! B_ efore he could even look around, like he didn’t know who was choking him, he was being dragged backwards into the living room.

His arms flailed wildly. A scream of surprise muffled in Zayne’s hand. He knew what to do! He _should’ve_ known what to do! Attacker from behind. Elbow to the groin. Stomp on the foot. Elbow to anything! But his brain was overriding all useful suggestions with unhelpful ones: Beg! Struggle! Flail! He felt his panic take over, felt it drown out any logical thought.

Zayne threw him to the ground, hard. In his panic Jay recovered quickly and made to crawl back to the hallway, the only means of escape. He scrambled on his hands and knees. He heard Zayne walking along with him, slow footsteps following him, allowing him to hope just for a short few seconds that he might actually have the chance to escape.

But the very small hope was brutally brought to the ground by a heel on his back, just before the front door. With a grunt, Jay collapsed to his stomach. _So close_. He could reach out and touch the door. But the distance between his outstretched fingers and the door suddenly increased. He yelped when he slid backwards over the floor, Zayne pulling him back by the ankle.

“No!” Jay heard his voice crack, his own incoherent begging, heard his sweaty hands and fingers claw over the floor, the soft _squeaaak_ of his hands sliding over the smooth wooden floor. His heart hammered in his chest.

_This was it. This is it._

A kick connected hard with his ribs, making him roll over. For the first time this evening Jay faced Zayne and looked up at him. He didn’t know his stomach could fall even further. The uncomfortable feeling in his gut worsened when he looked into Zayne’s cold eyes staring down on him.

During all this Zayne didn’t say a word. Hadn’t said a word at all yet. _Uncharacteristic, really._ His expression was empty, or just difficult to read, a cold blank. Just a touch of eagerness hinted in his eyes.

Zayne stepped forward slowly, his eyes locked on Jay’s while he moved. He planted his feet on both sides of Jay’s body and lowered himself onto his knees, straddling Jay’s waist.

“No…” Jay scrambled away. “No, no nono, no!”

Two hands grabbed the lapels of his button-up and pulled him back. So tight, the knuckles pressed hard into Jay’s chest. With a gasp he was roughly pulled up and close until his nose nearly touched Zayne’s.

“I’ve been waiting for this, Jay.”

Panic seared through him as he saw the eagerness in Zayne’s eyes spread, along with his wide grin now baring his teeth.

One of the hands let go and the first hit of many drove into Jay’s ribcage, full force. He lurched up against Zayne. He clawed at the hand still holding him up by his shirt. The second blow hit just under the first, in the soft side of his abdomen where no muscles or bones could protect the soft tissue underneath.

Jay let out a ragged scream. He slumped back, still held up by Zayne merciless grip. The man wasn’t holding back in the slightest.

In a final attempt Jay made to claw at Zayne’s face, going right for the eyes. But Zayne caught his wrist. He waited a second and made direct eye contact, watching Jay’s eyes go wide. The plea was clear but before Jay could vocalize it his arm was twisted to the side. Another scream as his arm bent unnaturally. It didn’t break but he did feel something pop.

The slow and deliberate two hits made way to a volley of blows and Zayne didn’t let up until he felt Jay’s fingers around his wrist uncurl and slip away in defeat.

His fist disentangled from Jay’s shirt and he let him fall back to the ground with a grunt.

Jay squirmed against the pain. Soft whimpers and grunts interrupted his breathing and he just couldn’t catch his breath. _God_ , it felt like he was hit by a bus. His entire torso hurt. His shoulders. Arms. Everything. He looked up at Zayne. Fear instantly set back in when the man leaned over him, the glint in his eyes showing he wasn’t done yet. He had to move. Had to get away!

Jay scooted back from under Zayne, surprised that he let him. He vaguely registered the soft tickle of his rug on his neck, but didn’t think about what it meant. He only saw the opening he created.

He took it. He jerked himself up. Pushed himself hard enough that he had the momentum to throw Zayne off of him. With a loud bang and a shrill shriek he crashed his head full into the underside of the coffee table. He fell back with a splitting headache.

Finally, Zayne laughed. A cruel, loud and merciless laugh.

“And here I was trying to avoid bruises to the face, Jay.” He brushed at Jay’s spiky blonde fringe, the strands of hair not long enough to cover the now throbbing red bump to his forehead.

Jay whimpered when the fingers touched deliberately over the sore spot. _Fuck, that hurt!_

“Well, you’re still conscious. Think you can handle some more?”

Jay paled. “No, please—“

Zayne sat on his hunches and grabbed onto Jay’s shirt again. But instead of the expected punches, he just pulled Jay backwards to the safety of the empty zone in the middle of his living room.

“Wouldn’t want you to knock yourself out. That’s what I’m here for. You can’t get away that easy.”

Jay struggled to sit up, his arms refusing to handle the weight placed on them. He sidled to the side and tried to push himself up onto his knees and elbows. Again, to no avail. Everything hurt. He fell back to the ground.

A foot pressed into his back.

Lying down on his battered front was already a painful experience without Zayne pressing his _fucking_ boot into his back, forcing his weight onto the bruises. Broken whispered curses, interrupted by soft grunts of pain and exertion spilled to the ground.

Above him he heard a soft chuckle. “Go on, then.”

Just when Jay had finally pushed himself onto his elbows, Zayne finished up with a brutal kick to the stomach. The air in his lungs was violently expelled and Jay retched trying not to violently expel the insides of his stomach as well. In his unstable position he was propelled back and fell, half against the wall, half against the cabinet. A vase shattered to the ground, scattering shards of glass.

Spilled water mixed with small drops of blood as tiny splinters found their way into Jay’s hands and forearms.

The glass crunched under Zayne’s boots as he drew near again.

“No… no more,” Jay breathed in soft grunts, his voice almost inaudible.

Zayne raised his eyebrows, almost as if he returned from a trance.

“Ah, maybe I went a bit overboard.” He regarded the crumpled figure under him, wheezing and spasming in the afterglow of the beating. Zayne wasn’t used to holding back and still had to grasp the thin line that he shouldn’t cross.

“I’ll try to hold back next time. This is new territory for me and you both. But well…” he grinned. “I couldn’t help myself now, really.” He flexed his fingers, looking at the bruised knuckles.

Jay could barely register that the worst pain had stopped. He did pick up the phrase ‘next time’ and whimpered at the thought. Footsteps moved away from him and he heard the front door close. His body relaxed at the sound. But he couldn’t move. All he could do was lie still, his body twitching and shaking to keep the pain at bay until he blacked out.

-

The next time, Zayne toed the line. Almost literally. He bent joints, but didn’t snap. Bashed bones, but didn’t break. Scratched skin, but didn’t cut. The begging that he completely disregarded last time was now acknowledged. Not at all times, though. Just to make sure he wouldn’t go off the rails again.

So when he left Jay, he made sure the guy could actually still stand. They had time. He didn’t have to go all out. Small steps.

When Jay went back to work, people noticed something was off, but Jay hid it with a smile, saying he took a squatting challenge and couldn’t move much. It was accepted with a laugh, without question. With a pat on the shoulder. A friendly arm around the neck that he almost mistook for someone, something else and he barely repressed a shudder, a need to throw it off.

“Better keep at it, Jay.”

“Oh, I feel you.”

“Jay, you idiot.”

And Jay laughed along with them, as if being beaten to shit was the funniest thing in the world.


	8. Hiding

Jay noticed his laptop on the couch next to Zayne. Definitely not where he left it. He threw him an annoyed glance. _Really?_

“There’s a password on it,” Zayne said, as if there shouldn’t be one.

“Yes, it’s what Mr Gates put on there to keep people like you out.” Jay snatched the laptop away and turned to put it on the kitchen table. He startled when he turned again, Zayne now standing right in front of him.

“Tell me.”

“The hell?! No way!”

“What are you hiding? Embarrassing porn?”

Just his daily schedule, half his life and maybe some confident documents. God, if Zayne would know where to find him all day, if he knew how many extra hours Jay still had on overtime, _fuck_ , he’d take full advantage.

“You are not getting into my laptop!”

A quick knock and a sudden rattle from down the hall made Jay jump. Someone was at the door.

“Jay? You’re home, right?” A muffled but familiar voice came from outside the front door.

Oh god, Dennis. Jay hadn’t seen his best friend all week and he did want to, but why did he have the worst timing ever?! Now what, should he pretend not to be at home? But he probably heard the shouting, right? With a startled expression he turned to Zayne. Like he’d have the answer. Like he wouldn’t make things worse.

“Friend of yours?” Zayne muttered. He was trying to hide it but the sudden interruption had surprised him as well.

The panic in Jay’s eyes told him the guy had no story ready for this.

Zayne held up his hands and nudged his head. A casual ‘well, okay then’. He stepped back and gestured for Jay to go get the door.

Relieved, but not fully assured that Zayne wouldn’t suddenly bust out, Jay pushed himself away from the table and shuffled to the door. He doubted Dennis was here for a quick visit and while he could really use a friendly face, the atmosphere would undoubtedly sour with Jay being on pins and needles.

"Why is your door locked?” Dennis said by means of hello. “You usually have it open when you're home."

Good question... With the ease Zayne displayed entering the house, whether the door was locked or not, Jay had to admit there wasn't much logic in keeping it locked. Maybe it was more for his own peace of mind.

“Ah, I… I was just about to take a shower.”

Dennis accepted the excuse and stepped past him. Jay scuttled after him in a slight panic but, thankfully, no one was in the living room. He did notice that the adjacent door to the bedroom was now closed. The homewrecker in hiding. He let out a sigh of relief. He could not bear having to introduce Zayne. As what, exactly? Distant cousin? Annoying ex? Stalking criminal? He should sort out a story, in case stuff like this would happen again.

“Tea?” he heard himself say. He kept his ears open, hoping to hear the front door as Zayne would leave, but so far nothing yet. The bedroom led to the bathroom that was also connected to the hallway. A small loop. Zayne would have an escape. If he wanted to.

“Sure. Or get something to eat and follow up with something stronger at the pub?”

“Ugh, like you read my mind. I just got home.”

“Figured,” Dennis smiled and dropped on the couch.

Jay used to work with Dennis directly and they became good friends. They did investigative reports and crime journalism together. But ever since Jay switched departments two years ago they only worked together on stories occasionally. Shame really because they worked well together. Dennis still called in some of his help every now and then. Jay always happily accepted. It was fun, spending long nights together trying to uncover a snippet of goods in piles and piles of documents. Searching for that ‘gotcha’ moment. He still did a lot of investigative reporting, but on safer issues like current affairs, politics. The work had them both conducting interviews and fact checking out and about, but they usually tried to come together at least for lunch a couple times a week.

But well, busy week. And Jay was still hiding some injuries so he had made sure to avoid the office for a bit.

“We didn’t really time our out-of-office days too well this week. Thought I’d drop by to catch up. Thank god it’s Friday, right?”

Jay made a grunting approving sound. “You have no idea.”

“Rough day? I heard you shouting.”

“At my laptop,” Jay quickly covered and nodded at the kitchen table. More like ‘over my laptop’ but, details. “But yeah, rough day. I’m exhausted.”

“You seem stressed, yeah.”

Jay, being a twitchy mess at this point with the remains of his panic still lingering in his fingertips, couldn’t disagree.

“Tell you what.” Dennis got up. “I’ll go down the road and bring back curry, you take a shower and get ready to unload.”

That was amazing in more ways than one and Jay almost wanted to hug him. He would have an excuse to kick Zayne out, be spared of a horrible evening filled with more bruises and injuries, and start the weekend with his favourite meal. An actual evening off. _Wow._ That had been weeks. He wanted to shower Dennis with gratitude.

“Thanks, man,” was all he could bring out. Gotta keep it cool. No one breaks down over curry.

As soon as Dennis made his way out, Jay heard a voice behind him.

“Aw, ain't that nice of him. You got a real pal there.” Zayne stood in the doorway to the bedroom.

So he was still here. Eavesdropping prick.

“Get out. He’ll be back in ten minutes.” Jay pushed past him into the bedroom to rummage up some clean clothes.

“That’s no way to ask for a favour.”

“Could you at least _act_ worried about having to go to prison if he finds out what you’re up to?”

“Relax Jay, he’ll just think you’re trying to hide that we’re dating.”

 _Oh god fuck no._ Why couldn’t people just assume that hiding strange men in bedrooms meant that you were being tortured in your own home? Fuck today’s society. This is why criminals get away with shit all the time. Because people think you’re fucking them.

“I’ll let you off for tonight. Just do a teeny tiny thing for me.”

Jay backed up when Zayne advanced on him. The back of his knees hit the bedframe and he fell down, sitting on the mattress. Zayne loomed over him.

“Get on your knees.”

Jay snarled. Throwing away his dignity couldn’t be called a tiny thing.

“You don’t want to show any bruises, now, right? Or a reddened cheek. He just saw you. Would know something happened.”

Yes… he would. And all the excuses in the world wouldn’t prevent the tiny seed of doubt that would sprout. Dennis was no idiot and Jay already expected he knew Jay was hiding something.

“Besides, he seems like a nice guy. I bet he'd invite me to stay for dinner should he catch us."

Of all the terrible things he threatened, having dinner together was actually the worst scenario in Jay's mind. _Fine then_.

He slid off the bed and let himself fall to his knees. Zayne, asshole that he is, didn’t move an inch, leaving Jay just a very small space caught between the bed and Zayne’s legs. Jay’s fingers scratched over his thighs as he tightened them into fists.

“Now, ask me again.”

Jay took a deep breath, hoping to fill himself with patience. “Please, Zayne, leave the house before he comes back,” he grit out through his teeth, speaking to the floor.

“Look at me.”

Jay closed his eyes before he craned his neck and looked up. “Please,” he said again, locking eyes with Zayne. “It’s just a change of plans. Please just go.”

Zayne hummed and took a step back. “Weeellll,” he drawled, enjoying the desperation that shone through the anger in Jay’s eyes. “Guess I can reschedule. Rain check?”

“Rain check,” Jay accepted eagerly, relieved there were no further conditions. Yet.

“I’m sure you’ll make it up to me next time.” Zayne winked and stepped away, leaving Jay on his knees. With a cheerful ‘see ya’ he was gone.

Outside Jay heard the heavy sound of a motorcycle revving up and puttering off. The panic in his stomach finally settled, the knot in his chest now undone. If Dennis had even the slightest idea how much he had saved his evening. Jay pushed intrusive thoughts like ‘next time will be two-fold’ out of his mind and just appreciated an evening without pain.

The excuse of taking a shower was a welcome one. He washed away the cold sweat, letting all stress drain away. And when he stepped out of the bathroom, the most amazing spicy smell wafted from the living room where Dennis was stalling out a feast. It almost felt like life was back to normal.

He joined Dennis, who did seem to notice that he was more relaxed now, but he didn’t say anything. Jay knew he owed him big time. He spoke through a mouthful of rice.

“Drinks on me tonight.”


	9. Spicy

“Brought you a little something.”

Jay looked over his shoulder to his tormentor. Shit-eating grin, _check._ Hands behind his back, _suspicious_. All promises to an interesting evening. For the inflictor. Not for Jay.

“What’s that?” he nodded at whatever Zayne was hiding.

“Get on your knees. I’ll show you.”

Jay almost laughed. “I’m not that curious.” Zayne’s expression changed just the slightest; still cocky and cheerful, but infused with just a hint of darkness. A warning. He drew closer to Jay who, despite the looming danger, didn’t shrink back and met him straight on.

“Get on your knees,” Zayne repeated. “And close your eyes.”

It was useless to fight here, Jay realised. Useless and dangerous. So what could he do? He sank to his knees and after his eyes fluttered up to Zayne a few times, anxiety warning him against the consequences of not being able to see, he closed his eyes.

Footsteps circled him, roamed about the room trying to elicit a response, to coax out a little disobedience, but Jay stayed as he was. He wasn’t going to give Zayne a reason to fuck up his evening even more than he already intended. His head moved with the sounds around him but he didn’t open his eyes. Even though he really, _really,_ wanted to.

“I was thinking we could… spice things up a little,” Zayne said behind him.

Really not the words Jay wanted to hear while sitting on his knees with his eyes closed. His sarcasm failed him. His coping mechanism had no response to the threat. It was like the last of his defence fell away. Because this could mean so many things. He stayed quiet and merely sat up a little, shifting uncomfortably on his knees.

He felt Zayne getting closer to him, knees against his back as the man bent over. The last thing he expected were fingers gently brushing over his face, searching for a grip on his glasses.

“Hey--!” he protested as he felt the pressure removed from his nose, the temple tips hooking lightly behind his ears as Zayne lifted the glasses carefully off of his face. He shushed Jay.

“I’m helping you out here.”

Jay severely doubted that. He braced himself for a slap to the face, a punch even. It was best to just assume the worst. He knew Zayne usually avoided the face, but the whims of some psycho could easily shift.

A soft click and _tick_ behind him told him Zayne gently put his glasses on the table. _Odd, really_. He’d expected Zayne to be delighted to punch the glasses off his face. Hit him so hard that his glasses would be send flying. Maybe even crunch them under his boot. Like a playground bully. Because all in all, that’s was what he was, wasn’t he? So this was rather unexpected.

The footsteps made their way back and Jay felt the man standing right in front of him. His breath hitched.

“Okay, open your eyes.”

A little hesitant now, Jay did as he was told. Eyes fluttered open and up. Before he could even brace himself for a hit, he heard a strange sound. He didn’t see what Zayne was holding, but by god did he feel it.

And his eyes immediately exploded in pain.

“Wha—AAHHhh!!”

Pain worse than he had ever felt stabbed through his eyes. Repeatedly. But at the same time all at once. Like a burning needle that just kept piercing his eyeballs. From the outside, but also from within. As if each stab caused a miniature explosion that kept bubbling up to the surface.

He jerked away, his eyes burning. His body responded immediately; tears streaming down his face, snot running from his nose, all attempts to expel the chemical agent. He tried to open his eyes, blink away the tears and the burn, but his eye lids refused to cooperate. They squeezed shut tight.

_That’s why he removed my glasses. Pepper spray! Asshole! Fucking asshole! GOD!_

His hands shakily reached up, hesitantly. Some little fact in the back of his mind told him not to touch it. But he wanted to, just to clamp his hands over his eyes lean back and curse the world. He settled for covering his eyes with his arms, pressing the fabric of his sleeves against his closed eyes. Wiping at the tears that just wouldn’t stop.

Jay rocked heavily back and forth, still on his knees, groaning, sobbing. Sometimes a scream ripped from his throat. He didn’t realise his own voice could burn him like so. His throat was all tightened up and every sound just increased the torture. The spray dripped down his face like lava. A burning stream over the skin inflaming wherever it could touch. Not just his eyes, his entire face felt like it was on fire.

 _Water! Rinse it out! Water!_ He struggled to his feet, blinded and in pain, stumbling over to the bathroom. But his feet caught on something. He crashed to the floor and instantly curled in on himself. In pain. Self-pity. Both. Goddamn path should be clear. He knew Zayne tackled him. The soft laugh above him only made him more sure.

“God, please!” His voice broke on every word. “Let me—agghh! Let me _wash it out_.”

It burned. It burned so bad!

A heavy boot pinned him down to the floor.

Jay struggled against it, desperate to get up.

“Please, just let me get water! Zayne, for fuck’s _sake!_ I could go blind!”

_I don’t want to go blind! I don’t want to hurt like this. God, please!_

A soft sigh. “Don’t move.”

Zayne’s weight disappeared. Jay never knew he could feel such intense happiness just from hearing the tap in the kitchen, hearing _divine_ cool water splash into a glass. A soft kick to the side made him lay on his back again. Jay happily obliged if it meant some form of help. Zayne carefully settled over him.

He splashed a bit of the water on Jay’s face, washing away the worst of the burning particles around his eyes. Little peppery bits that were just waiting for a stray finger to lead them to their goal to cause more agony. But it was not nearly enough to offer relief. His eyes kept burning.

The glass was emptied in his face. At least it relieved most of the irritation on his skin. Relief quickly turned to a new fear as Jay felt Zayne shift over him, hands brushing over his throat lowering further and further.

“Wha--?! What are you doing? Zayne?!” He felt Zayne unbuttoning his shirt.

Zayne fumbled with the buttons, losing his grip on the tiny things every time Jay twitched and writhed under him. He pulled the remaining unbuttoned part up out of his pants, planted a knee in Jay’s stomach, and opened up the shirt, letting it fall to the ground on Jay’s sides.

Jay still struggled, heaving and twitching, his chest going up and down, his stomach clenching in pain.

The optimistic view that things couldn’t get worse, was easily crashed down when Jay heard the _click_ of Zayne’s pocketknife.

The sound made Jay go still. Only for a short second, the pain still too hot to take lying still.

“No… No, what are you doing? Zayne, what the fuck?!” His throat still tightened with pain now closed up further in fear, Jay’s words merely an indignant whisper.

“Shh, I wanna test something.”

Said test now sank the tip of cold metal into Jay’s chest, cutting the shirt and skin. Red immediately spread into the fabric.

Jay grit his teeth. Squeezed his eyes further shut. He threw his head against the floor, arched his back up. He preferred the cold knife over the hot pain, but not at the same time!

He tried to open his eyes, see what was going on. See what Zayne was doing, be ready for the next surge of pain.

What he saw through a hazy red mist, though, made his blood chill. Instead of the knife, Zayne held the little bottle of pepper spray, now holding it over Jay’s chest. His expression one of mild curiosity mixed with a cruel grin.

“No…” Jay whispered. He felt the blood drain from his face. “No, no, Zayne, please, don’t… NO--!”

The stinging of the cut suddenly burst into a searing red pain. Jay couldn’t hold back a scream. The burning sensation bit into the wound, as if it could dig deeper than the knife had. Pepper irritated the edges of the wound and the tender red skin around it, like flames licking at it meaning to spread the pain.

“Ohh, let’s do that again.”

Jay’s protest died in another yelp as the knife crossed another line into his chest. A soft _pssht_ of the bottle, followed by a scream. The burn didn’t linger as long as it did in his eyes, but _fuck_ that still hurt!

“I think this is going to be a favourite of mine, Jay,” Zayne said fondly, turning the little bottle over in his hand. “No bruises, no blood, no visible consequences for you to hide. Just pure pain.”

“You. Just. Cut. Me!”

“That was an experiment. I was just curious. Won’t do that again.”

“I could go blind!” Jay’s voice caught. He still couldn’t see well. At least he could open his eyes just a bit again, but the constant stream of tears and the agent still biting at everything it could made it difficult to focus.

Zayne merely hummed. “Should be fine. Does it still hurt?”

_Fuck yeah it still hurts!_

“Could last for days, so I heard,” Zayne said with a soft chuckle. He finally got up, even helped an unsteady Jay to his feet. “So go ahead, try to wash it out. I bet the irritation will last.”

Jay swayed when he had to stand on his own, Zayne already making his way out.

He didn’t wait until he heard the front door close. He bumbled to the bathroom, at least as fast as he could, and turned on a cold shower. Without even removing his clothes he jumped in. _Fuck! Cold!_ But the cold water instantly offered relief. He let it run over his closed eyes, tried to blink to flush it all out. Swallowed a gulp of cold water, hoping to cool down his throat and mouth.

Now that he was at least able to try and wash away the chemical, Jay calmed down a little. He just hoped he was doing the right thing, still scared that it might have caused permanent damage. He’d have to Google some tips. When he could actually read again.

His breathing slowed a little, but he was still shaking like a leaf. Could also be the doing of this frigid shower now, though. He pulled off his shirt and dropped it into a corner with a wet sploshing sound. The water seeped into the cuts. It hurt a little, but at least the burning sensation lessened, the wounds now just responding to the water current.

It was true though, what Zayne said. Jay had hoped the water would wash away the pain, but no matter how long he stood there, letting the cold water cascade on his face, the lingering irritation didn’t go away.

He’d just have to wait it out.


	10. Training

Jay leaned over on the sink, examining his face in the bathroom mirror. A nasty bruise was forming right on his cheekbone. His fingers tapped lightly around the discoloured skin and he winced a little.

“What’s this?” A cold voice sounded next to him, making Jay jump. He hadn’t noticed Zayne, who had been waiting for him in the living room and now stood watching in the open doorway across the bedroom.

“Please just let me know you’re here instead of sneaking up on me,” Jay huffed and turned around, making sure to turn his face right, away from Zayne.

“Show me,” Zayne ordered. In two steps, he entered the bathroom, got up close and grasped Jay’s chin between two fingers.

Jay fell back, his hands behind him clutching onto the edge of the sink trying to create some distance. He waited for the chuckle, the sharp pain that would follow as a thumb would press hard into the bruise, the gloating of seeing him in pain. Instead he heard a soft hiss and growl. Jay looked up in surprise and found Zayne’s eyes flashing in anger.

“Who?” Zayne simply asked.

“What? No one, no it’s not what you think!”

“Don’t lie to me, Jay,” Zayne growled in his most dangerous voice.

Jay tilted his chin out of his grasp and looked him in the eyes. “I swear, it was just a training accident. I messed up while sparring because…” Annoyance showed in his eyes and his tone turned accusing. “Well, you can guess where my mind has been, I’m sure.”

“Sparring?” Zayne questioned, his doubt apparent, but he still stepped back to give Jay some space. “Since when do you, what, do you have self-defence training or something?”

“I’m not discussing this with you.” Jay wrung himself past Zayne out of the confining bathroom. Zayne wasn’t having it, though. He pulled Jay back by his shoulder and slammed him into a wall.

“You’ve been training so you can fight me off, is that it?” He pushed his forearm hard against Jay’s throat, pinning him in place. Jay just glared at him.

“Since when?”

“After you… since last time we…” Jay struggled to find the right words. “Two years ago,” he settled on, knowing well that Zayne would catch his drift.

Zayne smiled and pushed away. “I didn’t know that our week together made such an impact, Jay. So you couldn’t stomach the fact that I beat the everlasting shit out of you, hm?”

His question was met with silence. Jay would argue that ‘beating the everlasting shit out of him’ was in fact an understatement, but he kept his mouth shut.

“Yet you haven’t tried it out.”

Zayne knew perfectly well how he’d driven Jay into a corner. Any attempt of resisting or fighting back would be retaliated on others and Jay wasn’t risking any of it. Besides, the moments that would have been perfect, heck that actually _required_ him defending himself, hadn’t offered him the luxury of moving let alone using his skills. Fear had that little side effect.

“You know sparring can only get you so far, right? I think we should test out your skills… after all, that’s why you started training, am I right? To be able to hold your own against me. It’s kinda cute, actually. I’ll give you this one for free.”

“I’m not fighting you here and no, we’re not taking this outside.”

“Ugh,” Zayne grunted in frustration and dramatically turned away. “Kind of you though,” he said over his shoulder, “that you’re willing to let an opportunity where the cops are called on me slip through your fingers.”

He turned back to Jay slowly with a sly expression and a more tempting offer.

“Tell you what. If you win, I’ll leave you alone for a week.”

Now those words got Jay’s attention and while he did his best to keep his face blank, Zayne could clearly see he was, reluctantly, mulling it over.

Jay turned away from him with a sigh and grabbed his keys.

“There’s a storage room downstairs. We can try there.”

On the outside, Jay stayed cool, even a little grumpy being forced into this. On the inside though, he was sure he could hear church bells and a soft _Hallelujah_ chorus echoing in the back of his mind. It was a bit of a gamble but a week ( _a week!_ ) of freedom was too good to pass up. Hell! If he could prove to both himself and to Zayne that he could fight him off, life would certainly be a lot brighter. He would—! His mood soured instantly. He would just be brought down back to earth when Zayne would threaten to kill his friends. Well, he’d just take that week of bliss then.

He led Zayne downstairs to the main hallway of the two-story building, Zayne bouncing down behind him with a soft hum and an annoying spring in his step. Upstairs, Jay had a bit more room than his downstairs neighbour. The ground floor held another apartment like Jay’s, but also a shared space for storage.

“I bumped into your neighbour once, you know,” Zayne said. “He asked what the noise was about.”

Jay’s heart almost stopped as he unlocked the door to the storage. “What did you tell him?”

“Apologized for the loud sex.” Zayne shrugged. He grinned as he noticed Jay’s appalled face. “Better than the truth, right? Shut him right up, too.”

Jay grunted something. Luckily, they wouldn’t need to use that cover too much. Hank worked nightshifts so by the time Jay got off work, he was already gone. A little detail that Jay would never surrender to Zayne. It would only spur him on to get Jay to scream more or louder.

A click of the lock, a creak of the door. Zayne’s footsteps echoed through the mostly empty room, dust flicking up with every step.

It wasn’t much of a room. More like a concrete box. The only thing actually stored was an old bulky sofa that neither the occupants nor the landlord was willing to drag outside. Jay could store his bike here, but it was easier to just park it outside or in the shed. He only parked it here when he had a week off.

Zayne turned on his heels. To Jay’s irritation he looked way too excited about this.

“I’ll let you have the first shot, doesn’t that sound fair?” Zayne didn’t adopt a fighting stance, just stood there, his arms down. Only his expression betrayed a lust to fight.

Jay’d rather be on the defence, as that was what his classes had been teaching him. Defend. Deflect. Disable. But whatever. The second shot would probably force him to defend anyway and he wasn’t going to let a first chance to punch Zayne in his smug face slip through his fingers.

He slipped the keys into his pocket, but hesitated and kept them locked in his fist. The memory of his teacher came to mind, telling him to use any object you have. He let the keys slide between his fingers and pulled back out of his pocket.

Zayne noticed the keys poking out of his fist like tiny little blades and, with a little nudge of his head and a smirk, agreed.

“Go ahead. Use that. I’ll show you how useless it is. I don’t mind beating it into you.”

 _Confident shit, aren’t you_. _Fine!_ Jay was about to lunge forward but caught himself. Attacking in anger wouldn’t help. Instead, he took in his target, still wide open for that first attack. But there was something brewing underneath and Jay knew that if he missed, the tables would quickly turn.

His fist tightened around the keys as a plan formed. The feeling of the cold metal already scratching painfully against his fingers told him not to try to get a hit in like this. It would just cut his hand open. But, he could use it as a distraction and still get that smirk off of Zayne’s face.

He leapt at Zayne swinging his keys with the full intent of gauging his eyes out. Zayne swerved and dodged. Jay grinned as Zayne moved exactly as he hoped and he brought his other fist up to catch Zayne as he swerved towards him. But before he even got that far, a blow to his stomach cut off his assault.

It wasn’t a brutal blow but unexpected. It still knocked the air out of him and Jay fell back a step coughing. Zayne quickly stepped in and grabbed his right hand, squeezing hard against the keys still pressed between Jay’s fingers.

Jay yelped as the metal ridges nicked the skin and crushed against bone. His own grip on the keys slackened, but Zayne kept squeezing his hand around his until…

“Let go! Okay! Let go!”

The keys fell to the ground with a soft jingle. Zayne kicked them away as Jay hunched over, but it wasn’t necessary. Jay just groaned and cradled his now bleeding hand. Okay, so that had been a bad idea.

“Told ya it was useless.”

“What about that free shot?” Jay grumbled.

“Gave it to you, dodged and that was the end of it.” Zayne waved it away.

 _Ugh. Would’ve been such a nice chance_. Maybe he could get another opportunity in. Jay straightened up but Zayne didn’t give him the time to get his head straight. Jay startled and stumbled back as Zayne strode towards him.

“Don’t you back away from me, Jay. Show me what you’ve learned.”

 _Fuck_. Jay caught himself, the taunt lighting a new determination in him. An anger.

“Fine, then. Bring it!”

Jay dodged, swerved, side-stepped, and deflected. All conscious movements of what he had learned until adrenaline took over. A light euphoria hit him. He could do this! He was fighting him off. Zayne couldn’t touch him. But just defending wouldn’t get him his price. His week off. He needed to take a risk, needed to turn the tides.

So when he saw his opening, he moved right in to get past Zayne and go for a jab to the back of the neck. Zayne however, spun around with him, smiling down on him. Jay grit his teeth. _Oh, no you’re not._ He swung his fist back side-ways as Zayne slipped past and—

The grin on Zayne’s face widened. His hand shot out, grabbed Jay by the throat and used his momentum against him, pushing him further back. He sealed the deal with a kick to the back of his legs and Jay’s world swirled.

_No! Not yet!_

Jay landed full on his back with a gasp but immediately rolled away before Zayne could pin him under his boot.

He sprang to his feet. Needed to get a final blow in while Zayne was still unsteady. But his swing was too wide. Zayne easily blocked. Grabbed his wrist and twisted it hard to his back. Zayne’s other arm hooked around his neck, pressed Jay against him and--

A blade nudged against his Adam’s apple and Jay froze.

“Now what, Rambo?” He practically heard Zayne’s grin through the words.

“That’s not—“

“Fair? Well, do something about it then.”

Jay tensed up further when he felt the knife draw a tiny little cut. He knew what to do. Create distance from that accursed knife. Pull it away. Better a cut to the chest than to his vulnerable neck. But his hand pulled uselessly against Zayne’s arm and his body refused to cooperate.

 _Fuck’s sake,_ he knew Zayne wasn’t going to slit his throat. He knew that! So why—why wouldn’t his body just—

The cold steel disappeared and Zayne threw him to the ground.

“I win.”

Jay pushed himself up to his arms and knees, his hand instinctively reached up to his neck to check for damage.

“You got some moves, Jay, I’ll give you that. But what your class doesn’t teach you is pushing through the fear.”

Two years. Everything he learned these past two years, even the mindset he had tried to develop… That learning all this would help. That he wouldn’t let it happen again. He would be prepared this time.

But when push came to shove, he is held back by fear.

The fact that Zayne was just playing around didn’t help either. Just curious about how Jay would handle this instead of worrying about himself in a fight. Testing him even.

His fist tightened, leaving soft stripes in the dust. What did it even matter? Even if he could use what he learned, Zayne would just twist his arm by threatening everyone around him. He couldn’t win.

“Okay, fine. You won. What do you want?”

“Nothing. Like I said, I gave you this one for free. This was more than enough.”

For some reason Jay didn’t feel like he was given this without any cost. The one who got what he wanted was, as ever, Zayne. Leaving Jay in the dust. Literally.

“Just tell me a little something.” Zayne stood back, waiting for Jay to scramble to his feet. “That training, did it help? At first?”

At first? Those first couple of weeks after he was released from hospital? Wounds healed, scars settled, yet going out of his mind with fear?

“Yes.”

It had helped. To gain back a smidge of control of his own mind. Even though, he realised now, it may have just been an elaborate placebo. But yes, taking the lessons had helped reduce the fear in his mind, keep the nightmares at bay and helped him to go through dark nights on his own without having to fear if something, someone, was still coming.

Zayne walked past him with a pat on the shoulder. “Then just keep going.”


	11. Whisked away

The phone next to his laptop pinged that dreaded tune. The one he couldn’t ignore, couldn’t afford to ignore. Jay had made the mistake of letting Zayne’s call go to voicemail once and, well, he was _strongly_ encouraged not to let that happen again. The personal notification helped, but also wasn’t very beneficial for his stress levels. Jay stopped typing immediately and reached for his phone to check his messages.

_Cancel your weekend plans! We goin on a trip!_

His stomach churned, stress levels maxed out. _A trip?_ Daytrip? Demonstration? Why would Zayne want to take him anywhere? All he knew was that it wouldn’t be a positive experience.

He sent a little _?_ back, just to make sure Zayne wouldn’t raise a fuss about leaving him on read, put the phone back on his desk and focused on his article again. His attention kept wandering and he kind of hoped for another message that would explain Zayne’s plans. Would save him some worrying. He tried to shake it off. No good coming up with all the awful scenarios now. Surely Zayne would be happy to explain it to him later this evening.

And of course, he was.

“I don’t mind all this secret stuff, but you know what I miss?” Zayne stalked around the flat as if he owned it and made himself comfortable. Jay watched him carefully and waited for him to continue.

“Having you to myself for more than 24 hours. You know, spend some quality time. So next weekend, you’re coming with me. Tell people you’re going mountain climbing or something. Anything with a high risk of injury because I can spoil you on this: you’re going to need one hell of an excuse.” He grinned.

Jay’s face fell. The one possibility that he had been trying to push out of his mind all day. Spending more than a day with Zayne. As if he needed it. He could already do enough damage in the hour that he was here those couple days a week. Hell, sometimes he didn’t even need thirty minutes.

“One day?” Jay tried without much hope and deflated when Zayne held up two fingers.

“Where are we—“

“It’s a surprise, okay. Think of it as a blind date.”

No blind date could ever turn out to be as bad as this one. Jay fumbled for words, for anything to say preferably a refusal. But he knew he was stuck and couldn’t stop this from happening.

“So, darling, I’ll pick you up this Friday night.” And with a wink, Zayne left, leaving Jay completely bewildered.

_-_

Luckily Jay didn’t have any plans to cancel. As if he had the luxury of making plans for the weekend. Still, it saved him from having to come up with a lie. But he still needed to be prepared the best he could. First of all, having to go right back to work on Monday didn’t seem plausible. So the first thing he did Thursday morning was visit his team leader, Luke.

“Can I take a day off coming Monday? I’m going to be away for the weekend.”

“Sure, no prob. You gonna do something fun?” Luke looked up with a smile, but his face clouded when he noticed Jay’s gloom. “Or… oh, I’m sorry. Did something happen?”

Seeing the embarrassment and concern on his face, Jay snapped out of it. “No! No, it’s nothing bad. I just…” _fuck_ , what was he going to say now? Luke was now probably under the impression there was some kind of family emergency. He couldn’t say he was gonna go hiking or whatever. _Think!_ Family emergency with risk of loss of limbs…

He couldn’t think of any, so he just came up with something else. “I’ve been invited to go on some boot camp training course. It lasts a full weekend and I’d like a breather on Monday. I’m just a little nervous.”

“You could always say no,” Luke smiled.

Jay briefly wondered what would happen if he were to tell Zayne ‘no’. A friendly yet assertive ‘no, Zayne, I’m not coming with’.

“Hm, well, I do want to try it. I’m curious. Just not sure what to expect.”

“Maybe they’ll take it easy on you.”

Jay seriously doubted that.

-

And so the dreaded Friday night arrived. Jay paced the living room waiting for his escort to arrive. This was way past just being nervous. At work he wasn’t able to concentrate, but now that he was back at home and could do nothing but wait, he had to admit he was just plain scared. What he wouldn’t give for Zayne to just beat the hell out of him for this evening so he could spend the rest of the weekend recuperating in bed. Two days… Zayne would be able to take his time, draw out his schemes, do all the things he wasn’t able to do with the restrictions set up with just visiting at night and having to make sure Jay could still get up.

The sound of the front door opening made him tense up. _Here we go._

“You good to go?” Zayne asked as if Jay could ever be ready for a weekend filled with pain and dread.

“Should I… do I need to bring something?” Jay felt awkward. As if they were just discussing a normal sleepover. Which, they both knew, it wasn’t. The pillow fights at least were going to be replaced with something a little more… outrageous. But he felt he needed to bring something. Also, he was just stalling because, no, he wasn’t good to go.

“Some clean clothes maybe, if you don’t want to spend a weekend covered in—Ah, no. I shouldn’t spoil it,” Zayne said with a mischievous grin. He winked and brought a finger to his lips.

_Clean clothes it is!_

Jay gathered up some old stuff. Nothing white. While he didn’t want to think about it, he also didn’t want to spend hours in bloody tattered clothes, even if clean ones were to meet the same fate. He threw some wads of clothes into a bag and turned to leave.

A soft ‘ah ah’ made him look back. Zayne leered at him with a sly grin, his hand outstretched. When Jay didn’t immediately respond, he snapped his fingers, the motion smoothlessly transitioning to point at the bag Jay was now bringing up to his chest, almost in a hug.

Without much of a choice, Jay surrendered the bag, watching as Zayne zipped it open again. For some reason it felt more embarrassing for him than for Zayne, who was now shamelessly rummaging through his boxers.

“Why so much underwear?” Zayne commented casually as he checked the contents of the bag. “It’s two days. You plan on pissing yourself?” A grin spread over his face. “I mean, I don’t mind taking up that challenge.”

Jay just stood watching, his expression sour. He didn’t need a load of foreshadowing for this weekend from hell.

Zayne fished the phone out of the bag.

“For emergencies,” Jay tried.

“Yeah, no.” Zayne held the phone between thumb and index finger and tossed it onto the bed with a twirl. “That’s staying here. You don’t need it and I know you just want to use the GPS to track where you’ve been.”

He tossed the bag to Jay. “Also, don’t you hate it when you’re on a date and people seem more interested in their phone? I don’t want you distracted.” He winked and grabbed Jay by the crook of his elbow, ushering him out the door.

“It’s not a date,” Jay grumbled as he stumbled down the stairs and out the door on his way to his doom. He slung the bag over his shoulders and they walked out, down the stairs in front of the apartment. _God_ , it was so nice out, the sun setting in an orange red hue. Perfect evening to spend outside and avoid going home. Now he was going to spend it god knows where, probably in some place where he wouldn’t even be able to see the sun shining.

People walked by, chattering, laughing, passing them without a care in the world. On their way to have drinks with friends and celebrate the start of the weekend. They had no idea that they walked right by a kidnapping scene. Because that’s what this was, right? Jay stared longingly after them.

“Here.” Zayne held out a black helmet.

Jay snapped out of his gloom and self-pity. He just noticed Zayne’s motorcycle waiting for them along the sidewalk, looked at the helmet and back at the bike. For a simple math problem of having to put two and two together, Jay blanked out and was trying very hard to come up with an answer other than ‘four’.

“You’re joking,” he finally said.

Zayne smiled and looked at the still buffering Jay.

“I could have someone pick you up,” he offered.

Jay’s tense shoulders lowered in relief and he was about to nod, but the next sentence made them shoot up again. “Throw you in the back of a trunk and drive you over.”

For some reason that did feel a lot safer than being driven to an unknown location on the back of Zayne’s motorcycle. Also, stalling for time was a bonus.

“I think that’s—“

“Get. On.” Zayne gave him a pointed look. “Fuck’s sake, you’re fluent in sarcasm but fail to recognise it.”

Jay begrudgingly accepted the helmet.

“Good choice,” Zayne said, fiddling the straps of his own helmet under his chin. “We can always go for the trunk on the way back. You know, when you no longer have the strength to hold on to me anymore. Wouldn’t want you to fall off and disappear under a double-decker.”

Jay settled behind Zayne and slid the helmet over his head.

He snapped the visor shut. The world went dark at the same time the motorcycle sparked to life.

“Whoa! Wait! _Wait_ , I can’t see—“

“Yep. Darkened visor. You don’t need to know where we’re going.” Zayne revved the engine.

Jay protests were drowned out by the sound. He felt the bike shift under him and snapped his arms around Zayne in a panic.

“No, nonono, wait! Wai—“ he practically shouted in Zayne’s ear.

With a sharp turn Zayne took off and picked up speed.

Jay let go of any reserve and flattened himself tight against Zayne, his arms in a vice around his waist, his knees straddling Zayne’s hips, the helmet pressed against the leather jacket. He vaguely noticed that this goddamn helmet wasn’t even necessary. He had his eyes squeezed shut anyway. Little yelps and screeches were forced out of him with every turn, every overtake, every swerve. He couldn’t see what was happening, couldn’t anticipate the sharp and sudden movements. Every speed bump felt like a launching pad. Every swerve made his stomach clench as he was sure he would fall off this time. All he could do was hold on tight.

At least he didn’t have time to worry about what would be in store for him this weekend. Holding onto Zayne for dear, sweet life was the only thing on his mind now. Not letting go, not falling. But if he did let go, boy, that would open up his weekend. Hospital, rumoured to be this quiet and peaceful place.

Zayne hit the brakes, bringing his daydream to an end. Jay shot forward a little and let out a loud groaning exhale.

“You doin’ okay back there?”

“No!” An indignant yelp, muffled by the helmet was his answer. “Are we there yet?!”

“Just a red light. Hold tight.”

A brief moment of repose. _Deep breaths, Jay, deep breaths._

“Your death grip is loosening. Ready for a wheelie?”

“Don’t you da—aaaaare!!” Without warning, luckily without a wheelie, they sped off again.

Finally, _finally_ , the highway to hell ended. Zayne peeled Jay’s clasped hands gently apart and got off the bike, leaving a panting Jay perching on the seat. Jay leaned forward to catch his breath.

“Well, wasn’t that a fun start.” Zayne nudged the petrified figure and helped him get off.

Jay’s trembling hands moved up to pull this accursed helmet off his head.

Zayne leant heavily on his shoulder, his arm around the helmet pressing it down over his head. “Not yet.”

“I swear to God I will puke in this thing!”

“Just get inside.”

Jay heard sounds of wood creaking under their feet as Zayne guided him up a little staircase. Jay stumbled over the last step, still reeling and swaying on his feet.

“Okay,” a door fell shut behind them. “You can get it off.”

Relieved, Jay pulled it off. The sudden brightness hit his eyes and before he could adjust or even take in his surroundings a blow to the back of his neck made him collapse, the helmet thudding down next to him.

“See you later, Jay.”


	12. Ch-ch-chains

Jay woke on a cold floor. Without moving too much he tried to take a look at his surroundings and get a grip on his situation. Everything was pretty much dark, though, just a hint of light from an unknown source made sure the room wasn’t all pitch black.

He did remember that Zayne had knocked him out. Which, for some reason, Jay didn’t fully seem to mind. Blissful unconsciousness was probably a better alternative than whatever evening-filling spectacle Zayne had come up with. Problem was, did he sleep through the night or was it still Friday evening…?

He sincerely hoped it was the next morning.

The grogginess fell away and his eyes adjusted to the dark. Jay tested his limbs. His hands and feet weren’t bound; surprising, but suspicious. He tried to sit up and rub the back of his neck, but something stopped him from moving. Something pulled him back by the throat. _What?_ His throat went dry when he realised what was pulling him down. Trembling hands trailed around his neck and he gasped a little when he felt the cold metal around his neck. He followed the thin chain down with his fingers.

 _That goddamn bastard. Tying him down like a dog._ The chain was tied to a metal hook in the floor. It was quite a long chain, but tied short so he couldn’t move much. He had about 5 inches leeway, just enough to move his head but he couldn’t sit up.

 _Ugh. Fine._ He tugged on the collar a little, moving it sideways around his neck. He laid back and spread his arms wide, looking up at the dark ceiling.

All he could do was wait.

-

He heard the door open but didn’t even bother to look up. Footsteps coming down a stairwell, the sounds drawing nearer, the soft _thunk_ of boots crossing the room.   
Zayne stopped next to him. He stood over him, literally. One foot on both sides of Jay’s waist. Jay didn’t even have to move his pupils and looked straight up.

“Where are we?” he asked, a little surprised at how calm his voice sounded.

Zayne snorted softly, looking down. “I would think you’d have other things concerning you, Jay.”

“Meh.” Jay shrugged. He didn’t want to show how damn much the collar was bothering him. It was dehumanizing. But if Zayne caught on, he’d probably leave Jay wearing it for the whole weekend.

“Well, if it doesn’t bother you…” Zayne teased. “I don’t need it back right away.”

Jay scrounged his face in annoyance. Of course there was no right answer. “Fine. Get it off then.”

“We need to work on your manners, Jay.” Zayne shifted his weight and Jay grunted as the heavy leather boot now rested in warning on his sternum. “It’s up to you how you leave this cellar.”

“I don’t fully believe that.”

“Ok, well, believe me, you won’t want to make things worse.”

Jay had come fully prepared to sacrifice his pride for his wellbeing, but now that it actually came this far, any form of pacifying words wouldn’t come out of his mouth. Merely a cut off snarl made it past.

“Take this thing off, Zayne.” Polite enough without cursing and spitting.

“Let me give you a hint. You’ll want to add a ‘please’ there.”

The boot on his torso shifted down, now pressing hard against the side of his ribcage. “I wonder… If I apply enough pressure, do you think I could break two ribs at once?”

Panicked eyes flew up. In a reflex Jay pushed himself up, only for the chain to rattle and tug him down to the floor again without mercy. Jay shifted sideways as far as he could.

“Ah, ah.” The other boot smashed down on his hand. Painful, judging by Jay’s scream, but not enough to break the fragile bones of the hand. “Don’t move. It’s either your ribs or your hand. Or none at all, if you value such things.”

“Okay. _Okay!_ Fine. Please. Please, take off this… thing.” He refused to say ‘collar’.

The pressure against his ribs lifted and Jay relaxed. A boot print on his dignity, but damn it all.

“That’s a start. We’ve got all weekend to work on the rest.”

Zayne stepped away and settled cross-legged next to Jay’s head. He scooted closer and picked up the padlock that was chaining Jay to the floor.

Now that there was a bit more light, and without Zayne blocking his view and taking up all attention, Jay could see a bit more of his surroundings. As much as he could lying flat on the floor and only a limited angle to look around. He was closed in by bare brick walls, laying on a bare cement floor. A single bare lightbulb dangled from a bare ceiling beam. The light mixed with a soft spot of light that Jay had before, probably a light at the top of the stairs. In the corner he spotted some barrels and crates. Basically it was just an old cellar no one had ever bothered to finish or furnish. He noticed some stains on the floor, but that was probably just water damage. Nothing suggested a… history to this place which would insinuate people had been down here before. It was a bit of a relief.

“But really, what is this? Your mother’s basement?”

“Don’t worry about her. She’s deaf as a bat. So you can scream all you want.”

Jay actually almost believed him.

“It’s an old hideout,” Zayne said after a short silence. “We don’t really use it anymore so the place is empty and I often crash here.”

“You live here, then?” Jay asked. He tilted his head slightly so he could see what Zayne was doing.

“Sort of.” Zayne pulled a key from his pocket. “It belongs to the boss but he’s never here anyway.” He muttered a soft curse as the old lock didn’t spring open yet.

“So crashing other people’s homes is more of a lifestyle decision. That makes sense.” Jay nodded against the chain. Zayne twitched his lips to hide a smile, but didn’t answer.

Jay kept an anxious watch over Zayne’s tinkering with the chain. He didn’t want to think about the lock being too old and rusty and stuck… “Your boss… That old guy?” he continued, flashing back to the strong-looking fifty-something bull that had ordered Zayne to keep an eye on him two years ago.

Zayne looked up and searched Jay’s face as he tried to recollect who he meant.

“Oh,” realisation hit and he focused on the lock again. “You mean the old man from the warehouse.” His lips pulled in an absentminded grin. “Nah, he’s gone.”

 _Unnerving._ “Did you—“

“Who knows, Jay.” Amused eyes snapped to Jay’s for an instant, teasing the answer and letting Jay think what he wanted to.

The lock clicked open. Jay haltingly sat up straight as Zayne pulled the chain through the loop to give him some leash.

With a groan, Jay pushed himself up and turned to his hands and knees. The chain jingled lightly as it dragged along the floor as he turned. His whole body felt stiff from laying on the cold floor. He flexed his battered hand to check if it was alright before he put his weight on it to push himself up.

Zayne let Jay get up, but before the chain was lifted from the ground he stepped on it. The chain snagged and an unsuspecting Jay was suddenly yanked back down, his face hitting the ground. Blood spattered to the floor, his hands clumsily moving up to his nose trying to stem the blood. He growled as he slowly got back up, as far as he could on all fours, and glared at Zayne.

“Ohh, like a real scary dog.” Zayne laughed. This time he let Jay get to his feet.

Zayne took the chain and pulled lightly. “Come, I’ll give you a tour.”

“Of the house?” Jay wiped at a last stream of blood trickling on his upper lip, merely smearing it out across his cheek. He ignored the soft tugging around his neck and stayed put.

“Of your quarters.”

Which mainly consisted of Zayne leading Jay to an obscured part of the room, hidden behind a wall. With the lack of light Jay hadn’t even noticed the gap in the wall. Zayne pulled him gently along by the chain, leaving Jay no choice but to follow.

A large aluminium basin stretched out along the wall and a make-shift toilet had been installed. Which made Jay reconsider his previous stance that this…dungeon hadn’t been used before. Everything was covered in brick dust so maybe not used very often.

“Guests can use this room to wash off any excess blood,” Zayne said in a drawling, lilting voice, mimicking a tour guide. “And if you behave you can use the shower upstairs.”

“There’s no toilet paper,” Jay noticed.

“Good thing you brought extra underwear.”

Annoyance washed over Jay’s face. He walked over to the basin, wanting to wash the blood off his hands and nose. The tap squeaked. And squeaked again as Jay turned it further open. But no water came out. He turned his head to Zayne, giving him a sour side-eye.

“Oh…” Zayne sounded surprised but amused. “Well… good thing you brought extra underwear.” He shrugged. “Use it as a hanky.” He walked over to the toilet and flushed. “At least that works. Wash your hands in there or something.”

Before Jay could even consider it, a yank on the leash made him follow Zayne back the middle of the basement.

“Stairs over there. No use going there, the door’s locked.” Zayne gestured. “Bed over there,” another wider gesture to nothing in particular but the bare cement around them. “All sorted.”

Jay gave him a look, digging his fingers behind the metal around his neck and pulled at it, as far as it would give.

“Ah, tomorrow. Maybe.”


End file.
